


Advocaat and Lemonade

by Angelci5



Category: The Professionals
Genre: Christmas, M/M, Older Lads
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-23
Updated: 2011-07-23
Packaged: 2017-10-21 16:36:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/227310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angelci5/pseuds/Angelci5
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A funeral reminds Bodie of his own mortality.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Advocaat and Lemonade

**Author's Note:**

> Older lads at Christmas. Written 2008.

_“We therefore commit his body to the ground; earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust; in the sure and certain hope of the Resurrection to eternal life.”_

Bodie threw the handful of dirt down on top of the coffin. His face was solemn, betraying little emotion, but inside he sharply felt the loss of the man he’d known for almost thirty years.

An icy wind whipped around him as he gazed down at the casket, but he barely felt it. He only felt the sadness which seemed to engulf him at that moment. He’d known today wouldn’t be easy, had thought he was prepared for it, but seeing the coffin, knowing the body that lay inside… he was struck by the finality of it, and it was almost too much for him to accept.

He turned towards the widow who was quietly weeping beside him, and took her hand in both of his. “I’m sorry, love, I need to get back. Call me if you need anything, OK?” he said softly and kissed her on the cheek.

He nodded his leave to a couple of other mourners in the gathering, and feeling both relief and guilt, walked away from the soulless, dark trench which held his friend.

The sky was a clear, deep blue and the sun was sitting low and bright, casting long, thin shadows across the grass. Making his way through the cemetery towards the car waiting for him, Bodie firmly tried to cut away the emotion of the service. It was over, done with. He should be immune to all this by now, so why was it getting harder? Ridiculous. It must be the time of year, fate adding an extra cruel twist to the day.

As he walked along the neat, gravel path of the graveyard, he pulled his collar up against the bitter cold and stuck his hands deep in the pockets of his long coat. He tried not to look at the headstones scattered along either side of him, some small and modest, others large and ornate, all bearing similar words of love, loss and pain. But his eyes were drawn to them as he passed… _Devoted Mother and Wife, Forever in our Thoughts… An Adoring Husband, With love We Remember…Our Beloved Little Angel, Lost to us Aged 6…_ they all bore testament to the indiscrimination of death and what it left in its wake.

Bodie picked up his pace, so the inscriptions became a blur.

His driver was holding the door open for him when he reached the car and, thanking him, Bodie slid gratefully inside. As they pulled away, his head dropped back onto the seat and he closed his eyes.

He was getting soft in his old age - he never used to dwell on things like this. When he was younger, the prospect of an early death hadn’t bothered him, he’d seen enough of it in the field and accepted the risk as part of his work. Truth was he’d always thought himself invincible, never believed he’d be one of the unlucky ones. And he’d been right.

The whisper of a memory suddenly came to him, _One down, eight to go._

He clutched at it, afraid it might slip away. The words brought with them an image, a figure looking down at him, holding his gaze for just a beat… wide, green eyes, an expression fierce and intense betraying the calm voice which spoke.

A shiver ran down Bodie’s spine as he remembered that near miss. It scared him now as it never had then, knowing the future he would have lost… what he would have missed.

Now a more natural demise was creeping closer with every passing year, and though he’d never formed the thought consciously before, he was aware of its silent approach. This was an invisible enemy, one which could be lurking just around the corner. It might not give any warning and he knew he couldn’t outrun it, not like a bullet or a bomb blast. This one was inevitable.

Generally he was philosophical about death, but every now and then, like today, he would be sharply reminded not to take anything for granted. His body, too, would cruelly remind him... all the little aches and pains - even though he still kept fit and watched his diet - further proof, should he need it, that time kept marching forward and couldn’t be held... only slowed, if he was lucky.

And all these bloody funerals didn’t help either... too many friends and colleagues gone too soon, it was enough to make anyone think about their own mortality.

Bodie forced his eyes open and glanced out of the window. He saw houses decorated with sparkling Christmas lights, some with gaudy Santas and reindeer sitting on their lawns. Realising that they were already driving through the outskirts of London instantly made him feel better. Every mile they passed was taking him closer.

He pulled his mobile out of his pocket, flipped it open and hit the speed dial for home.

oOo

How many did this one make, wondered Doyle. Too many.

Sometimes it was a dignitary or minister they hardly knew, but they were expected to attend for the sake of appearances and politics. Then there were other times, like today, when it was someone they’d known well and the grief was genuine. It never got any easier.

Doyle gave his coffee a final stir and chucked the teaspoon into the sink with a clatter. Taking a sip, he made his way to the living room and stood by the French doors gazing out. At least the sun was shining.

He checked his watch, it should be over soon. And he should’ve been there. Not just for the reason he’d given Bodie, a last chance to pay his respects, but because he wanted to be there with Bodie.

His partner might appear stoic, but Doyle knew it was just a front, that the death of their friend would cut deep; he was a sensitive bastard, it just showed in different ways. Plus Bodie had agreed to do a reading at the family’s request, and though he was used to public speaking, this was personal, and Doyle had wanted to share the burden.

They’d had a big argument about it the night before, when Doyle had casually asked what time the car would be picking them up in the morning. Bodie had stared at him as if he was mad and firmly reminded him what the doctor had said. Doyle had told Bodie in no uncertain terms that the doctor could shove his advice, that he was fine and that he was going to the funeral. But on this occasion Bodie refused to back down, and had used a few choice words of his own. They were both as stubborn as each other when they wanted to be, Doyle thought with a smile.

In the end Doyle’d grudgingly backed off, partly because an untimely coughing fit had rather weakened his case for attending, but also because he knew Bodie’s anger was a cover for his concern, and Doyle had caused him enough worry this past week, however valiantly Bodie had tried to hide it.

A scratching at the glass brought Doyle back to the present, and he glanced down to see earnest brown eyes looking up at him from outside, and a tail wagging eagerly. Doyle smiled and unlocked the door, “Come on then, had enough out there have you?” he asked as the dog scampered in bringing with him a stinging blast of cold air. “Christ, not surprised, it’s bloody freezing,” he gasped, the change of temperature hitting his chest.

Re-locking the door, he picked out a book on gardening from the shelf, hoping it might distract him for a while, and took it with his coffee and sat down on the sofa. He was swiftly followed by a furry body which curled itself firmly up against him. “We should take a leaf out of your book, shouldn’t we,” he muttered, stroking the silky, soft ears with one hand. “Enjoy life every day, appreciate the simple stuff.” He took another sip of his coffee and glanced again at the time. It definitely should be over soon.

Finally the phone rang.

oOo

“Hello?”

“It’s me, I’m on my way back.”

“How did it go?”

“Oh, you know, as you’d expect. Listen, do you want me to pick anything up?”

“Wish I could’ve been there, Bodie.”

“I know, but we agreed. Not the best place for a bout of bronchitis, don’t want you having a relapse… not to mention it would be very unseemly to be hacking your guts up during the Lord’s Prayer.” Bodie heard a throaty chuckle, and felt his spirits lift.

“Yeah, I know… But still… to bury him on Christmas Eve... I wanted to- ” Doyle stopped abruptly as his lungs made their ailment known, and coughed violently.

Bodie waited for it to quiet. “Ray?”

“Yeah, still here. That was your fault for making me laugh!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll make it up to you… Nurse Bodie will attend your every whim for the next two days.”

“Two whole days? So who’s in charge of the country’s safety while I’m off sick and you’re skiving?”

Bodie heard the smile in Doyle’s voice. “I’ll tell Lucas he’s on call, all right? That put your mind at rest?”

“Oh yeah, he’ll love that! Nah, let him enjoy his Christmas.”

“What about our Christmas, Ray, we’re always on bloody call.”

“Yeah, but we do all right, don’t we? Very considerate the terrorists these days, rarely cause us any trouble Christmas Day.”

“Yeah, suppose you’re right.”

Neither spoke for a few moments, both content just to listen to the breathing of the other, sounding so close they might be lying next to each other.

“I’ve been thinking,” said Doyle finally.

“Oh, look out,” muttered Bodie.

“Piss off,” Doyle said automatically, but he was smiling again. “No listen. Days like today, they make you think about stuff, don’t they, I mean… ” He trailed off, and Bodie waited, imagining Doyle rubbing his nose in thought. “Makes you think about what matters,” he continued. “Should be glad for what we’ve had and what we’ve got, not what we’ve lost… we’ve been lucky, Bodie." He paused, no doubt expecting a withering response, but Bodie stayed silent. "Well, it is Christmas, time to rejoice and all that, you know?” he finished defiantly.

“Yeah, I do.” Bodie said, and couldn’t stop the huge smile that spread across his face. “Right, I’ll be back in about twenty minutes, OK?"

“Snowballs.”

“Eh?”

“Snowballs. You asked if I wanted anything, and it’s Christmas, so I want Snowballs... you know, the drink, it’s traditional.”

“Yeah, it was traditional about thirty years ago!” scoffed Bodie.

“It’s back in fashion, Nigella said. So get us a bottle of that yellow stuff.”

“You can’t drink, you’re ill!” Bodie admonished.

“It hardly counts as alcohol... and anyway, I’m fine, it’s just this bloody cough… a drink will help me sleep.”

Bodie paused. “I’ll help you sleep,” he promised huskily.

There was silence for a moment. “Sod the Snowballs, just get home.”

Closing his phone, Bodie pictured Doyle on their big, old sofa in the living room. The tight jeans had become slightly more conservative over the years, though no less enticing for it, and his shirt buttons were still left carelessly undone. He’d be lying back with his feet up, Sam would be curled up beside him, trying to snooze between the bouts of coughing, and the lights from their ridiculously large Christmas tree would be twinkling in the corner.

Bodie felt an overwhelming burst of warmth and happiness well up inside him; it suddenly filled him with such uncontained joy that he almost laughed out loud, and he knew with absolute clarity what he needed to do.

He’d resisted the idea up until now, even though he wasn’t sure why. They’d talked about it, when it had first become an option, but just hadn’t taken it further. Now though, it felt like it would be the final step to Bodie’s own precious paradise.

He wasn't given to romantic gestures, they seemed hollow in light of what he had with Doyle, but he wanted this to be special.

He looked at his watch; did he have time to go to a jeweller’s? No, sod that, he’d prefer to have them custom-made anyway. There was Champagne in the fridge at home… but Doyle said he wanted Snowballs.

He sat forward, “Jim, could you stop off at the next offie you see? Cheers, mate.”

Tonight. He would do it tonight. There would be caresses and kisses, whispered declarations and a proposal… at midnight, perhaps, in the flickering light of the open fire… assuming they could both stay awake that long, of course.

Ray would probably accuse him of being drunk... and Bodie would happily prove that he wasn’t, slowly and teasingly.

He leaned back in his seat and grinned, his thoughts filled with Doyle. Life was good.

The End


End file.
